Today my dad turns 50. This is a big deal, although perhaps not as embarrassing in my family as in others. He and my mom enjoyed a quiet weekend away together and there are no plans for a huge party as far as I know. This is fitting, as my dad is a relatively quiet, thoughtful guy. I’ve only been around for half of his lifetime, but wanted to share a few of my favorite memories we’ve enjoyed together…
My first time throwing a softball with him in the backyard was unforgettable. I was 7 and definitely had no concept of turning the glove over to catch tosses above the waist. The hard softball (we realized a few weeks later after the season started that they were actually using “soft” balls) bounced off the heel of the glove and gave me my first fat lip. In spite of my reluctance, he got me back outside again and I became a pretty decent fielder.
We’re even though, because once he was pushing me on our new swing set and I was trying to help too much and gave him a fat lip with the back of my foot.
Learning how to drive was an adventure. Dad wanted me to drive standard first. I generally pick up things fairly quickly, but driving a stick shift was as far away from natural to me as learning to breathe underwater. I can remember stalling out in the middle of a turn several times and, instead of getting a move on, totally freezing. Dad’s quiet, calm voice raised slightly (a lot for him) as he urged me to please find a way to get out of the intersection. Driving was one of those few things Dad actually backed off on and I didn’t finish learning standard for real until 5 years later, when I bought my first car. (I secretly think he found my little Neon a great car because it forced me to go back in time and get it right.)
Dad is tenacious. Unlike me and driving, he doesn’t give up on things that don’t come easily. One summer we went to a family camp and he decided to master the Eskimo roll in a kayak. Every day he would get in the pool with the kayak and somebody to assist when he would inevitably get stuck under the water. He would slap the bottom of the kayak (now pointing at the sky) and Mom would go over and help him crawl out. He did this over and over, making little bits of progress but never actually accomplishing the roll. Finally, towards the end of the week the kayak went down, I heard the “pop” and “slap” as it broke on the other side and Dad popped up again all by himself. The look on his face was priceless as he thrust his paddle to the sky and shouted, “YES!!!” And then the kayak flipped over again and Mom had to help him out.
As I think back, perhaps the most vivid memory is spending time each school day going over math homework with Dad. As a homeschooler, I relied on my parents for my education, especially as things got more complicated in high school. They did a great job (I think so anyway…and my SAT scores aren’t bad either), but I’m afraid I resented Dad coming back from his day job because it meant at least 1, if not 2 or 3, hours doing math together. We would correct all of my wrong problems from that day and then tackle the next day’s lesson together. I used to hate it. Dad would spend a lot of time reading the next lesson carefully and making sure he understood it thoroughly before he would explain it. When I was 16 I thought it was because he was really fascinated by it and didn’t really care about my impatience. But that wasn’t really the case. I do think he enjoyed refreshing himself on high school math, but he gave me a gift each day by sharing his valuable time off of work to help prepare me for my future. And that time we spent together is beyond measure when you consider how many daughters never see their daddies, much less have hours to spend together every day, just the two of them.
Dad prepared me for my own family by providing me with an incredible role model. He is forever a teacher, even reminding me right before we walked down the aisle to VWH, “Now, be sure to speak up when you say your vows.” (Thanks Dad…) VWH and I still turn to him for advice often and are honored to be in his presence. I can’t believe I get to call him Dad, but I do. Everybody else out there should be very jealous.
Happy birthday dear Daddy. I love you. Plain as that. More than I can say.
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